The doctors hovered over Nate, their faces etched with unease as they continued examining his spine. Dr. Aaron Pierce, the younger of the three, pointed at the exposed tissues around the injury.
"Look at this," Aaron said, his voice low. "The tissues… they're trying to regenerate but keep failing. It's like they start to heal, then collapse all over again."
Dr. Evelyn Hart, the woman, shook her head, her brows furrowed. "That's not how the human body works. Tissue doesn't behave like this."
"It's insane," Aaron muttered, running a hand through his hair. "But maybe… we should push his spine back in. See if it triggers proper regeneration."
"What?" Evelyn snapped, her voice rising in alarm. "This is madness, Aaron! You can't just shove soone's spinal cord back in and hope for the best. That's not dicine—that's barbaric."
Dr. Richard Cole, the middle-aged leader of the group, sighed heavily and stepped forward. "It's unorthodox, yes. But look at him. His body's already breaking the rules of biology. If we don't act, he'll lose his chance to recover completely—or worse."
Evelyn frowned but didn't argue further. Richard knelt beside Nate, placing a firm hand on his shoulder.
"This is going to hurt," Richard said, his tone steady.
Nate's wide eyes filled with fear, but he nodded. "Just… do it," he whispered.
Richard motioned to Evelyn, who hesitated briefly before running her fingers along Nate's spine, searching for the right angle. When she found it, her hands trembled.
"Now," Richard instructed firmly.
With a sharp, calculated push, Evelyn forced Nate's spine back into alignnt.
"AGHHHHHH!"
Nate's scream pierced the air, echoing across the beach and startling those nearby. His body convulsed for a mont before his head fell limp, his scream cutting off as he fainted.
The next two days passed in anxious monotony. The survivors burned wood tirelessly, hoping to catch the attention of any passing planes or ships. But no help ca. The sky remained empty, the sea eerily still.
By the third day, morale had begun to crack. People whispered among themselves, so losing hope as they stared at the endless stretch of ocean.
Under the shade of a makeshift tent, Nate's eyes suddenly snapped open. His body felt stiff, and his muscles ached, but he was alive. Slowly, he turned his head and saw Bella sitting beside him, her back straight and her gaze fixed on the fire.
So that's why she didn't help earlier, Nate realized. She was injured too.
Bella glanced at him, noticing his movent. "You're awake," she said simply.
Nate tried to speak, but his throat was dry. Before he could manage a response, Bella added, "You were out for two days."
Nate blinked in surprise, then looked around. He noticed the sa fire burning and people still working to keep it alive. But there were no signs of help—no planes, no ships, just the endless silence of the island.
He shifted, his body protesting, and swung his legs off the makeshift cot. A sharp jolt of pain shot through his lower body, but sothing else accompanied it—a feeling. He could feel his legs again.
His chest swelled with joy as he tried to stand, and though his movents were unsteady, he managed to rise with the aid of a walking stick the doctors had left for him. Taking a shaky step, he felt the ground beneath his feet.
"Finally," he breathed, tears threatening to fall.
As he walked out of the tent, each step a small victory, Bella stood and followed him.
Before he could ask, she said firmly, "I want to help too. I can't keep sitting here, waiting for rescue."
Nate looked at her, surprised, but said nothing. Together, they moved toward the group of survivors.
Nate approached the fire cautiously, his legs shaky but determined. The survivors around the fire turned to look at him, so offering tired smiles, others simply staring.
"Where's Ryder?" Nate asked, his voice steady despite his nerves.
One of the survivors pointed toward a cluster of people gathered under a large tree a few ters away. Nate nodded his thanks and made his way toward the group.
As he got closer, he could hear raised voices. Ryder stood in the middle of the group, his arms crossed as he listened to the heated discussion around him.
"I'm telling you, going into the island is wrong," one man argued, his face flushed with frustration. "We should stay here. It's safer by the wreckage!"
Another man stood abruptly, his fists clenched. "Safer? How long do you think we can survive out here? Look around! We're too exposed. No shelter, no protection. We're sitting ducks."
"Exposed to what?" the first man snapped. "What danger could possibly be out here?"
"I don't know!" the second man shot back, scratching his head as if searching for an answer. "It could be anything!"
The group fell silent as Nate appeared, his walking stick tapping softly against the sand. He wasted no ti.
"You're both wrong," Nate said firmly, his voice cutting through the tension.
The group turned to him, so surprised, others skeptical.
"Staying on the beach isn't safe," Nate continued. "For one, the tide could rise. We don't know how high it gets, and this whole area could be underwater by nightfall. Two, the wreckage could attract predators—large animals or even scavengers we can't see right now. And three, we're burning wood to signal for help, but that sa fire could attract hostile attention locals or otherwise."
The group murmured in agreent, but Nate wasn't finished.
"Going into the island isn't much better. One, we don't know the terrain. If soone gets lost, we might never find them again. Two, the forest could be filled with venomous creatures—snakes, spiders, or worse. And three, there's no guarantee we'll find food or water. We could starve or die of dehydration before help arrives."
He paused, letting his words sink in. "No matter where we go, we're in trouble. The only way out of this is to get rescued."
Many nodded in agreent, though a few still looked doubtful.
But then, one man stood, his eyes narrowing at Nate. "Are we seriously going to listen to a twenty-year-old crippled kid spouting nonsense? I bet this kid can't even spell his own na."
A few people chuckled nervously, but Nate didn't flinch. Instead, he furrowed his brows and stared directly at the man.
"Sir," Nate said calmly, "when it cos to relevance, I am more important to this group than you could ever be. I may not look like much, but I have knowledge—knowledge that could an the difference between survival and death."
He took a step forward, leaning slightly on his stick. "I've studied biology, which ans I understand the dangers of this environnt better than most of you. I've studied physics, which ans I can help build tools and shelters that can withstand the elents. And unlike you, I don't waste ti insulting others—I solve problems."
The man's face turned red, his fists clenching as he took a step forward. But before he could respond, Ryder raised a hand, stepping between them.
"Enough," Ryder said firmly, his voice carrying an air of authority. "Nate, why are you here?"
Nate glanced at the man one last ti before turning to Ryder. "I know how to get us off this island."
The crowd fell silent, all eyes on Nate as his words hung in the air like a lifeline.
****
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